


Simple Melody

by TheSonsofDurin



Series: Skyfall [3]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13187901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSonsofDurin/pseuds/TheSonsofDurin
Summary: James Norrington finds himself in 1940s America, and quickly gets himself wrapped up into the world that is Peggy Carter's life.





	Simple Melody

James Norrington has never been one to run from danger. Rather, he has a penchant to run  _ towards  _ it. He’s been considered foolish for it, and brave for it, and certainly both from some people. Certainly, though, it’s the reason he made the rank of Commodore so young. It is also the reason he ended up with a sword hole in his chest. He’d say he died from it, also, except the doctors say they found him in time to stabilize his wound, which wouldn’t have happened if he’d died. So he must have only passed out, from pain or blood loss or whatever the reason. Of course he is also somehow in the year 1946, two centuries later than when he should be. He’d have thought it an elaborate joke, but the radio was plenty enough to convince him.

James rubs his healing wound absently. He isn’t bedridden anymore, and the nurses allow him to walk the hallway his room is part of, but he hasn’t been outside in weeks. He rather misses the sun, and would most definitely disobey orders from the medical professionals around him if he had any idea of what to do or where to go afterwards. Just as he passes the second to last door, it opens. Out steps a woman. They stare at each other for several seconds, though James has absolutely no idea why. He decides it’s his lack of human interaction when he suddenly thrusts his arm forward.

“James Norrington.” He says.

The woman looks amused. “Margaret Carter.” She grasps his hand and shakes it. He’s impressed with her grip, though not as impressed as he would have been before he found out that Elizabeth stabbed Captain Barbossa in the chest with a knife while she was captive on the Black Pearl. “I’m assuming you’re one of the patients in this hall?” She asks. James relishes in the familiar accent she sports.

“Indeed. My room is in the beginning of the hall.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t moved you yet- you’re up and walking, which is plenty impressive for someone in the serious injuries wing.” Margaret says.

He laughs. It’s short, because his chest burns as it shakes. “Oh, I’m a medical mystery. The nurses have absolutely no idea how I’ve been able to become so mobile so quickly.”

“It must be spite, then.” Margaret says. “They say you cannot, and so you do exactly that to prove them wrong.”

“Perhaps.” James smiles. “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have thrust conversation on you when you’ve clearly come here to check up on someone you care for.”

“Oh, I appreciate the conversation. It’s much different than any others I’ve had recently- all about death this, injuries that.” Margaret smiles. “May I ask where you come from? It’s rare I meet another Brit in the States.”

“Well, I was born in Windsor, and grew up there. However, for the last decade I’ve lived in the Port Royal, in Jamaica.” James smiles. “I did spend some time in Tortuga as well.” He finds he isn’t quite as ashamed of that as he used to be- perhaps it’s from the healing sword would in his chest.

“However did you end up in Los Angeles?” Margaret asks. “I’m here because I’m visiting friends, of course, and I’m on an extended stay- but what brings you here, and with a serious injury to count?”

“I simply wanted a change in scenery.” If he could answer that he would. The best he’s been able to come up with is that some deity somewhere really wants to see what he can put up with. “The injury, I’ll admit, I have no recollection of acquiring.”

Margaret winces in sympathy. “Yes, I hear that some injuries can cause amnesia. Luckily my friend has no such thing, or else the man who shot him would be scot free.”

“He’s awake, then?” James asks. Today is the first time he’s ever even seen the door open to that room, even by nurses. He’d thought the room was empty.

Margaret smirks. “Oh, Jack’s awake and complaining, all right. Mostly that he’s missing work, rather than about the pain or anything. He’s been here two weeks- how long have you been here?”

For a moment James ponders asking what her friend’s last name is, if only to assure himself that Jack Sparrow is not in fact in that room, but he doesn’t. “A little over a month.” He means to say more, but his lungs choose that moment to stop working and he bends over, coughing. Luckily he regains his breath before any nurses come rushing.

Margaret frowns. “Lung injury?”

“Indeed.” He gasps out. He gives her a pained smile. “I apologize, but I do believe I ought to go sit down for a while.” He straightens.

“It’s no problem. I really should get going as well. Perhaps next time I come around I’ll see if you’re still here and we’ll have another chat.” Margaret says.

“Perhaps.” James makes it to his room right before he has another coughing fit, and lays gratefully across his bed as his lung attempts to collapse itself through sheer force.

He won’t be moving anywhere until the doctors figure out why his apparently healed lung repeatedly stops working, so Margaret won’t have any problem finding him for another chat.


End file.
